Alive
by Newf
Summary: Post Season 6. Hurley uses his new-found abilities to bring an injured Jack back to L.A. so that he can rekindle his relationship with Kate.
1. Once a Hero

Author's Note: Hi everyone, long time no see. This fic was a request and may span quite a few chapters depending on interest. It is basically a Jack makes it back to L.A. alive fic which involves him rekindling his relationship with Kate.

**Alive**

**Prologue: **Once a Hero

Dr. Robert Hamill was not a superstitious person. He was never one of those kids who insisted on bringing their lucky pencil to an exam, or one of those doctors with the lucky caps, stethoscopes, orange peels, hell, he'd seen it all, from old gym sockets to rabbit's feet.

Personally, he was not a man of faith. He didn't like to think that everything he did in life was predetermined, that his Harvard degree was not just some consequence of his inherence, but a product of his own free will. Robert liked to think that he was an optimist, and that, that too wasn't a consequence of some set pathway, either. It was a nice thought that his choice of a cinnamon-raisin bagel and a coffee with two creams and one sugar for breakfast this morning was his choice simply because he was late for work and the cafeteria had really good bagels and mediocre coffee. Not that some force had predetermined that on day 16 142 of his life cafeteria bagels would be on the menu.

Another thing Dr. Robert Hamill did not like was coincidence, even when he didn't quite recognize it as such. Looking back on it later, he would never forget the evening of November 22, 2007 when everything he believed or at least he thought he believed, was tilted messily on its side.

He should have known it was going to be a strange day when he's wife's cat, he refused to take ownership of the thing, appeared on their doorstep after being missing for the past six months. He had woken up to a disgruntled mewling sound and opened his door to find the damn tabby blinking irritably up at him. Okay, so maybe it wasn't that uncommon for cats to just reappear out of nowhere, but this was L.A., a population of 4 million people, he was just shocked it wasn't decorating the side of a freeway somewhere. It had ended up being a pro for him because she had been so happy that she hadn't bothered to threaten him with sleeping on the couch if he stayed late at work, so he shrugged it off and went on about his day, consultations, surgeries, the lot.

It was early evening when he was paged down to the ER by a grim faced nurse wearing a long white coat over her scrubs.

"Another surgical consult?" he yawned, fiddling with the IM on his Blackberry as they walked.

The nurse looked at him and her frown deepened. He been working at St. Sebastian's for six months and didn't recognize her.

"Not so much," she croaked in a gravelly voice that was ripened with age. "In all my years I've never…you'll have to see for yourself."

Hamill shrugged, trying to remember which one of his residents was doing their ER rotation. Most ER stories usually involved people with weird things stuck up their asses and his students never tired of paging him down for show and tell. He started to head toward the exam rooms when she caught his arm and pointed toward the waiting room.

Shit. This probably was serious.

"TB again?" He cringed, last time they'd had a patient with suspected tuberculosis he'd had the CDC on his back for almost eight weeks straight, over what was later found out to be a nasty case of pneumonia. He dropped his Blackberry back into the breast pocket of his scrubs and followed the nurse past the triage desk where a small crowd had gathered.

"Dr. Hamill," Collin, his surgical resident waved him over. "Check out what one of the porters found in the waiting room!"

Hamill blinked in the direction the man was pointing, following an empty row of seats back against the wall to the far corner of the room.

"Jesus," he swore. The man had been slumped against the hard plastic seats, bundled in a down-lined parka with a fringe of fur around the hood.

Another thing to add to his 'list of weird-shit that sometimes happened to him.' This was L.A. god damn it. People didn't wear parkas even in November.

"That's not the strange part," Collin side-stepped the gurney that one of the paramedics working the desk was helping a nurse wheel in. The grim-faced one was trying her hand at crowd control. A patient, half-dead in your waiting room was _never_ good for morale.

Hamill automatically knelt to help them lift the man onto the stretcher, catching him around his center in one fluid motion; he withdrew his hand, feeling the sticky slide of blood creep down it at the contact.

"I've got blood," he muttered, tugging at the parka. A nurse was already working the hood back. It had been flush against the man's face, concealing his fever brightened skin.

"Stab wound, lower right quadrant," Hamill said as he wrestled the clips of the overstuffed coat, fighting with them before he could even get to the zipper, let alone get it down. He didn't look up, but frowned as the fabric finally gave way to a faded blue t-shirt, sticky where the blood had started to coagulate in a messy streak down the right side. He leaned in to get a better look, doing his best to examine the wound and walk with the gurney at the same time. The staff had wasted no time, but he waited until they were parked in one of the trauma bays before he started to palpate the area.

The patient moaned loudly and Hamill jerked his head up, gasping, then cursing at the sight.

"Jack?" he muttered.

Collin nodded. "One of the nurses recognized him. Nobody saw who brought him in…I mean I doubt he could have made it himself in this condition…and there was a note."

Hamill's brow furrowed. "A note?"

A high pitched beep filled the air before Collin, or anyone else could elaborate.

"His O2 stats are decreasing…he's at 84," somebody, possibly the paramedic, barked.

"Get him on a non-rebreather now. EKG 12-lead, full vital work up, CBC, and have somebody prep the OR."

"Jack?" Hamill squeezed the man's shoulder as he did his best to coax his arm out from where it was still tangled in the coat. He silently wondered if he should have tried harder, that day, to reel him in, forced him back to his office; make him spill his problems to a complete stranger. That's all they were, strangers, barely even colleagues, he'd met the man what, maybe twice? He had sounded impressive on paper, someone Hamill wouldn't mind having a beer with after work, but in real life Jack just seemed broken.

"Look, you're at the hospital," he stated, letting his eyes roam over Jack's arms, automatically checking them for needle marks.

Where had the man come from? A bar? Did some skittish teenager find him a back ally and drop him off here? How had he gotten stabbed? Over drugs?

He leaned in, sniffing the air around the man. There was no apparent scent of alcohol.

"Add a tox screen to the list," he muttered to the nurse. He cringed as her face changed, suddenly looking disapproving, as though Jack wasn't worth their time anymore. That was the problem with making assumptions, they were never fair to the patient.

Jack weakly brushed away Robert's hand, squirming on the stretcher. His eyes were half-open, but unfocused. Hamill's fingers snagged on the coat again. He huffed and grabbed a pair of scissors from the medical tray to cut the damn thing off of him. His t-shirt was harder to deal with, layers of skin began to peel off with it as they started to tear it away. It was as though the man had been in the sun for a very long time.

"You got a temp on him yet?" He called out, frowning.

"104.3."

"Shit. Get him…" He didn't have time to get the rest of the words out as Jack rolled on his good side and started to tremble.

"Hey," Hamill directed his attention toward the man.

"Do you know where you are, Jack? Can you tell us what happened?"

"I…didn't know you were working today," he slurred, arcing his head toward the sound of the voice. Another tremble reverberated through him. He barely seemed awake.

"My resident called me down," he explained, humoring the man. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Jack's eyes opened a little wider, revealing just how glassy they were.

"I gave your Mom the tickets. If you don't have anybody else, maybe you could take aunt Claire. I'm sure she'd love to get out of the house." He started to push himself up on his elbows. Hamill gently barred him with his arm.

"Jack," he said calmly. "You're very sick. You need to lay back down."

"I'm…gonna…be…late for…the c…concert." Jack grunted disjointedly and propelled himself forward with all his strength. Thankfully, it wasn't very much, but it didn't stop him from trying.

"You're not gonna get an IV in him like that," the paramedic said skeptically.

He wriggled in an erratic motion that almost sent Robert flying.

"I…I have to be there…can't let him down again." Jack grumbled irritably, he was almost off the stretcher when one of the ER nurses had the good sense to stick him with a mild sedative. Jack whimpered a little as he fell backward into the pillow.

Hamill looked incredulous, but she shrugged. "You think we've never dealt with a rowdy patient before?" She asked nonchalantly.

"All right, that's enough all of you!" Hamill seethed. "I know what this looks like, but Dr. Shephard is a distinguished staff member at this hospital and you are all going to treat him with respect. Within that respect is the notion of doctor-patient confidentiality so that means I don't want to hear any gossip about Jack's condition here or so help me, your resignation letter better be on my desk by 9:00 AM Monday morning."

They all stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

Robert glared back coolly.

The nurse who had sedated Jack looked as though she was about to cry.

"Understand?" he barked.

He was met by an un-unified chorus of 'yes's' and 'yes sir's'.

"All right then." Hamill bowed his head. "Then let's get to work here. He needs IV ceftriaxone and ibuprofen, get those blood samples, and somebody call up to see if OR is ready for us yet."

"See, Hamill can be downright formidable when something gets him going." Collin explained to a young-blonde-haired nursing student who smiled shyly at him.

Robert fixed his student with a glare as the others started to get to work.

"Got something to contribute, Ryerson?"

"Ah…No Sir…" Collin started, but then he considered this for a moment. "I mean yes sir!"

He dug his hand into his lab coat pocket and rooted it around until he produced a crumpled scrap of paper. "Um…this was taped to Jack's…I mean _Dr. Shephard's_ body."

Hamill blinked, absently taking the paper from the boy's outstretched hand.

"Taped to him?" He repeated, making sure he heard correctly over the whirrs and beeps of medical machinery and hustle and bustle around him.

"Yes, sir." Collin nodded.

Robert Hamill smoothed his thumbs over the paper, pressing out the wrinkles so that he could squint down at the slanted scrawl before him.

To: _Doctor's in the St. Sebastian's Emergency Room_

At least it was specific.

_This is Dr. Jack Shephard. (In case you don't recognize him, because I know he had a really awful beard at one point.) _

_I hope he is not in too much trouble with you guys. I know he did some pretty un-Jack-like things recently, but he seems to be pretty close to being Jack again now. (Hence no beard.)_

_He got hurt trying to do what he always does, save people, so I was hoping that you guys might be able to save him for once. He's really sick, he even threw-up on me as I was bringing him here. _

_**Please help him.** He needs to get better and have a ton of kids with Kate (Austen). _

_Speaking of Kate, can you get her for him? She'll totally be able to make him be 'Island Jack' again. (That's a good thing…kinda like Jack who used to work for you guys before the crash only less high-strung and more confident. Sometimes he'll even play golf!) You can contact her at 310-425-2534 and she lives at 42 Panorama Crest._

_She may not believe you that he's really back in L.A. so just tell her that 'The Island was just returning the favour.' _

_Yeah, I know it sounds trippy, but she'll understand._

_Please take really good care of Jack and don't be too hard of him because of his whole mid-life crisis thing. He's a great doctor, so if you guys can give him his job back…I'm sure he'd really appreciate it. He LOVES saving people!_

_He's a hero._

_Later dudes,_

_H.R._

Dr. Hamill blinked as he raised his eyes from letter.

"That's pretty messed up huh?" Collin met his gaze, but Robert was glancing over at Jack, the man seemed restless, even in the drug induced sleep he has slipped into.

"Have you called Kate yet?" He asked, quietly.

Collin's eyebrows furrowed. "No, we were considering calling LAPD but…"

Hamill shook his head. He wasn't sure what to think, but the bizarre words had invigorated him to get to the bottom of this. "Call Kate Austen. 310-425-2534." He read off the paper.

The student shrugged. "Alright, but I doubt she's even a real…"

"Now!" Hamill cut him off, looking away as two porters bustled into the cubical, waiting to take Jack to the OR.

* * *

Well, I hoped you liked the prologue. I can promise Jateness in the future…I just needed to set the scene here. Please let me know what you think! Reviews make me write faster lol.


	2. The Hardest Part

Author's Note: Hi everyone. Thanks to **lynnmovielover**, **lostindallas62**, **Amy**, **SoFeelingTheLove**, **alisue**, **Jimelda**, **shiri**, **Aaileen**, **anni**, **NYR88**, **Yas**, **stef23.51**, **AirDragon717**, and **jellybelly **for the wounderful reviews! Just a warning that Kate seems a little angsty at the beginning of this chapter, but I mean she was shot in the shoulder, they left Jack on the island half dead, and most of her friends did die plus she lost Aaron so that has to warrent at least a little stress right lol?

**Alive**

**One: **The Hardest Part

She had started crossing out the number of days they had been back with a red Sharpie. The very same one she had confiscated from Aaron because he had managed to scribble 'I Luv u Mommy' in sloppy, misshapen scrawl along the molding at the entrance to her bedroom. When she had confronted him about it he had explained, in his own little way, that it was because she was 'sad a lot'. It was just after Jack had left. She hadn't bothered to paint over it, she wasn't even sure if she had a can of white paint in the house, but sometimes in the middle of the night, she wished she had…especially now.

The first day back they had all parted their separate ways. Carole was waiting for them at LAX, clutching her hand-bad and looking too shocked to be relived, especially when Claire refused to accept her hug. Kate was almost glad that Aaron wasn't there as she did her best to explain why Claire 'wasn't well'. She had felt like she had failed all over again.

Sawyer had disappeared before she really even realized it, probably in search of the nearest bar, with Miles following along like a lost puppy. Neither of them had spoken two words to her since Fiji, she didn't mind though, they were all just too damn numb.

Frank and Richard did stick around for a little while. Frank had run into a pilot friend he knew from his school days and was amiably chatting away while Richard looked on, uncertain of what to do. He finally settled on telling Kate what a hero Jack had been and she ran from him then, shaking her head and spending a good three hours hunched over in a stall in the lady's room throwing her guts up. She barely remembered the taxi ride home.

The second day back felt similar to the first. She had curled up on her couch wearing one of Jack's old shirts, he hadn't bothered to come back for, and hugging Aaron's toy whale close to her chest.

By day six she had managed to pull herself off of the couch long enough to answer the damn phone when it rang. It was Sawyer, drunk-dialing her from some bar to tell her how sorry he was….about everything. His tone was wobbly and it made her think of all those Friday night phone calls from Jack.

She unplugged all the phones in the house after that. She just wasn't strong enough to do it all again.

On day seven she had officially gone three days without food and almost 72 hours without sleep. She had managed it alright, the first few nights, until her initial shock and exhaustion started to wane, giving way to the nightmares that lay underneath, waiting for her. It wasn't so bad at first, she saw Sun, and Jin, and the rest of them. They all looked so happy, except Jack, when he came to her and sat on the couch beside her, he just looked disapproving.

He appeared younger. The frown lines around his mouth weren't as deep, but his eyes where hard and wary. In her mind she could hear him scolding her for taking on all of his bad habits, his problems, but she never really listened. All that she wanted was him.

It was impossible to tell at which point she just gave into it all. She was beyond caring, everything blended together making it hard to tell where she was any more. She didn't hear the doorbell when it rang, she could sort of see the sound, pulsing behind closed lids, but she made no motion to do anything about it. It didn't really even register to her that there was anything she _should_ do, not even as the door creaked open and footsteps echoed throughout the house.

The next time she awoke she was on her back and appeared to be moving, but was too tired to work out how. Everything was bright and faces hung above her, seeming to swirl like stars in the sky.

"We'll move on three. Make sure she slides into place, the locking mechanism sticks sometimes…one…two…and three, nice and easy now."

_No. It was supposed to be five._ Some fleeting thought skittered around in her brain, but she couldn't make sense of why it even came to mind.

Her world suddenly dimmed and seemed to tilt on an angle as sounds whizzed around her making her shudder.

"BP's 90/50. Think we can get her to drink something or should I put a drip in?"

"Does she look like she's well enough to drink something?" Another voice snapped.

"Look ma'am, unless you're family I'm going to have to ask you to…"

"I found her. I'm going with her." The first voice asserted firmly.

The sounds seemed to settle after a moment, replaced with a constant mechanical hum that made her feel like she was back on the plane all over again. Maybe she was and she just couldn't get her eyes wide open enough to see it. Sawyer was probably still sitting behind her with that haunted, murderous look in his eyes, he couldn't seem to rein in; Miles to his left staring blankly out at the ocean, Richard in the cockpit with Frank, while she sat by Claire, watching her twitch uncomfortably as she slept. It had been easier once they had landed in Fiji. The plane back to L.A. was commercial and there were more things to be distracted by than the five people she had been through hell and back together with.

"She's gonna have to lose the shirt…there's blood." Someone sounded apprehensive.

"If you even think about…"

"Look, we just want to get a look at her shoulder. We'll get a blanket and cover her up first and we'll only undo what we have to."

Kate felt them undoing the buttons of Jack's dress shirt, the pale blue one that she had somehow claimed as a sleeping shirt. She whimpered as they tried to peel it off her, feeling like someone was taking Jack away all over again.

"Kate?"

She started to squirm.

"Just try and relax. I know it hurts, but these men are trying to help," a voice tried to sooth her.

"So, can anyone hazard a guess as to how she got shot?"

She heard enough that she should have been able to supply something useful, but she felt cold and claustrophobic.

"It's stitched up so someone must have seen to it at some point. She could certainly do with having a doc look at it though, there's definitely pus and the area is inflamed."

It was hard to focus on what they were saying. Her eyes didn't really want to stay open and she felt marginally better when she kept them closed. The hands lingering above her seemed unrelenting, she wanted to swat them away, but she felt too weak to even acknowledge that she had hands of her own. She knew she must because she could feel a gentle pressure radiating through one of them, as though someone was continually squeezing…trying to ground her.

In the end it wasn't enough, she was too tired to play their game. It felt so much better to let herself drift to the point she didn't feel anything anymore, just a haze of swirling colours that seemed to envelop her in a sleepy cocoon of warmth. Somewhere through it she could see Jack. He didn't appear as angry as he had before, just tired, he was always so tired. Maybe when he got some rest they could play golf again…she could beat him at golf again. A smile played on her lips as she drifted into a blissful dreamless sleep.

"do do do, do dodo do, do do do! dodo do, dodo dodo...dodododododo, do do dodo, dodo do, dodo dudo...dodododododo, dododo! do do do, dodo, do do do, dodo, do do do, dodo.."

Kate opened her eyes, shutting them again immediately as the light sent a sliver of pain slicing through her skull.

"…do do do, do dodo do, do do do! dodo do, dodo dodo...dodododododo, do do dodo, dodo do, dodo dudo...dodododododo, dododo! do do do, dodo, do do do, dodo, do do do, dodo.."

She groaned, making a motion to cover her ears but her arms felt heavy and uncooperative. She heard something shift then the sound stopped.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice was tinny and weak in her ears.

A blurry face appeared above her. Kate blinked to clear her vision and it seemed help a little bit.

"Hey, stranger. How are you feeling?"

She frowned, trying to sort through the fog enough to put a face with a name.

"Cassidy?" she rasped, finally piecing enough together to appear moderately coherent.

She must have gotten it right because the woman above her seemed to smile and nod a few times.

"I didn't mean to wake you." She waggled the cell phone she was in the process of stuffing in her purse. "Clem's been worried sick about her Auntie Kate."

Her jaw dropped a little, pulling her mouth along with it, as she did her best to remember how to communicate. Something wasn't working right, she tried swallowing a couple of times, but it didn't seem to help.

Cassidy seemed to understand the problem and stood, disappearing from her field of vision long enough to pour a cupful of water from the pitcher on the night table.

"Here, drink." She pressed the straw against Kate's lips.

The rest was a reflex that Kate didn't have to think about. She greedily gulped back the water in long, desperate slurps that left her gasping for air.

"Whoa, easy now. Slowly, okay?"

Kate nodded, breathlessly.

"Good, like that." Cassidy encouraged, allowing her to take a few more sips before she pulled the straw away and set the plastic cup back down somewhere Kate couldn't see from where she was laying.

"Better?"

"Yeah." She forced out. "Where?"

Cassidy did her best to mask the sympathy playing over her features and ended up letting out a long sigh. "Well, what's the last thing you remember and we'll go from there."

Kate was suddenly very conscious that she wasn't wearing pants and frowned, trying to force her mind into telling her why. Her limbs were shaky, but she frantically ran her fingers along the hem of a blue and white hospital gown. Her heart started to beat a little faster.

Jack was sitting on the edge of her couch, scolding her for something in that way that only he could manage.

"Where?" she demanded again, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed.

"Kate, you're at St. Sebastian's Hospital." Cassidy seemed uncertain. "Look, maybe you should get some more rest and I can come back when…"

"No," Kate did her best to at least appear calm. She tried issuing a weak smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"I'm OK," she weakly propped herself up on her elbows to demonstrate. The motion only resulted in a stabbing pain shooting through her left shoulder and she didn't protest when Cassidy adjusted the controls on the bed so that she was half sitting.

"Thanks," she muttered.

Cassidy nodded. "Now what do you remember? It's important."

Kate rubbed her face absently, feeling a little stronger. She couldn't quite muster the energy to meet the other woman's eyes.

"I was on the couch at home," she started. "and…" she frowned…things really were a bit of a blur.

Kate thought about it and shook her head. She had no idea.

Cassidy relented. "The doctor said you were severely dehydrated and sleep deprived, Kate. Why didn't you call me, huh? What the hell happened?"

Kate's bottom lip started to trembled and Cassidy's tone made her feel like she was a little kid again, caught stealing that damn lunch box.

"I…I…" her voice cracked and the walls that she had worked so hard to put up started to crumble away at the base. "They all died. Sun, and Jin, and Juliet, and Sayid…and…and… Jack."

"They're gone…" she muttered as the first tears began to well up, stinging her eyes. " Oh god. They're all gone."

Cassidy moved to lean against the edge of the bed, tentatively reaching to pull Kate against her, offering a solid support as she trembled. Her words had only confirmed what Cassidy had already suspected. Last night she had gotten a phone call from someone she wasn't even sure she even still believed was still alive…Sawyer was slobbering drunk and had begged her to let him see Clementine. She almost felt guilty now as she thought back to what had originally prompted her visit to Kate's house. He might have just unintentionally saved her life.

"I know, sweetie, I know…but it's gonna be okay, you'll see."

They rocked back and forth on Kate's hospital bed until she seemed to surrender to it all and that old coping mechanism that she had trained herself so well to use started to kick in. She squeezed her eyes tight together, only letting the fear in for five seconds as she counted.

One. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, a quick drumbeat that seemed to fill her ears.

Two. Her lungs burned as she forced back a sob.

Three. She could feel Cassidy's fingers rubbing slow circles across her back.

Four. She could see him standing there, in her mind's eye, a calm reassuring expression playing across his features as the ocean waves rolled and tumbled in the distance.

Five. Kate opened her eyes and took a deep breath, one she didn't even realize she had been holding.

"I'm fine," she stammered, pulling away.

Cassidy appeared doubtful.

"Really," she tried to assure her. " It just happened so…" her mind was still too sluggish to really complete the sentence.

"How long have I been here?" She asked another question to deflect and she was genuinely curious. The room, from what she could see of it, was small and well lit, with yellow paint peeling off the wall and a window open on the far side. Kate appreciated the gesture; it seemed to chase away that cold, sterile, hospital scent and made the room smell like fresh-cut grass, and rain…she could smell rain on the horizon.

"A little over a day. They brought you in yesterday evening and it's just after 10:00 PM now. Your doctor is going to kill me for waking you up."

So she'd slept over 24 hours, no wonder she felt groggy and out of the loop.

"No, no," Kate protested, feigning a smile. "I think I've slept enough."

Her yawn gave her away and Cassidy issued her a stern look.

"Oh, you'll be getting more sleep." She insisted. "And doing _everything_ your doctors tell you, because I swear Kate, I don't think Clem and I could handle it if you get sick on us again."

Kate suddenly felt very guilty. The kind of guilt you feel when you are not totally alone after all and find out someone you hadn't even considered had gone out of their way to worry about you.

"You've been here this whole time haven't you? God Cassidy, what about Clementine?"

Cassidy shook her head. "Clem's been up half the night eating birthday cake and watching movies. I've been checking in with her every few hours. She's at a sleepover." She glanced toward her purse, where her phone was tucked in the side pouch.

"As of 45 minutes ago they were deciding which one of them gets to be Justin Bieber's wife."

Kate let out a soft puff of air, wishing she had Aaron with her to screw his face up at the comment.

"That sounds about right," she said instead.

"Yeah," Cassidy agreed. "Clem is something else. She's growing up so fast, god it won't be long before she starts bringing boys of her own home and…" she shuddered.

Kate did her best not to look pained. "You know, her father came back with us."

"Her father's a drunk." Something dangerous hung in Cassidy's tone; it triggered something within Kate's mind.

Jack used to call her when he was drunk, but it didn't mean that he was…no…no that wasn't it. She thought about it more, working it through as though it was a puzzle she had to solve. Jack. Drunk. Sawyer. She played with the words. Sawyer was drunk! He called her. That was it! Then she had unplugged the phone because he reminded her of Jack.

"Cassidy," Kate swallowed hard. "I'm not picking up for him, but he was stranded on that island for three years…he…he settled down with someone…made a home. Her name was Juliet, she died, when we were trying to get off the island." She tried to explain, but her words just didn't quite do the whole situation justice.

"He's grieving," she added.

Just like Jack was grieving the first time they had gotten off the island. She just didn't realize it then. Maybe, he didn't either.

Cassidy's expression softened. "I'm not going to guarantee anything. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he wanted to see her. If he can manage to stay sober that is."

"Give him time, Cassidy. Just promise you'll consider it?"

Someone knocked on the door, cutting off whatever else she was going to say. Kate glanced up, wearily scratching at the tape that secured the IV needle to her hand. A doctor appeared in the doorway. He smiled warmly at her as he padded toward the bed, brandishing a clipboard.

"Ms. Austen?"

She inclined her head.

"I'm just going to head down to the cafeteria to grab something to eat." Cassidy quickly excused herself, closing the door behind the doctor as she exited.

"My name's Dr. John Carter. I was one of the ER doctor's on call when they brought you in last night. How are you feeling?"

She timidly reached over to shake the man's hand and he did his best to appear reassuring.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

He cocked his head to the side, noting just how bloodshot her eyes were. "Well, from where I'm standing you look like you could use some more rest and a good meal. That certainly disqualifies the stuff they try to feed the patients around here. You can have your friend sneak you something from the cafeteria if you want? "

Carter sat down in the chair that Cassidy had vacated, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes as he leafed through her chart.

"Or there's this really great burger joint down the road that delivers. You know, you might want to keep that in mind when the cravings start."

Kate started at him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I remember my wife had this weird thing for pickles and ice cream," he shuddered. "Try explaining that one to the store clerk at 4AM." He glanced up, and caught the strange expression she was fixing him with.

"Right, sorry." He chuckled, misinterpreting.

"Don't worry, you've still got a few months ahead of you before that happens. How's the morning sickness been?"

Kate's eyebrows furrowed.

"What?"

It was Carter's turn to look confused. "Kate, you do know you're pregnant right?" He asked slowly.

Her tired green eyes seemed to flood with tears as the impact of his words sunk in.

* * *

Anyone recognize the ring tone lol? Hehe sorry to leave it there, but at least Jack and Kate are in roughly the same area now right? Please review if you want another update and if you have any ideas for Jaby names down the road feel free to add them in.

**Next Time:** Kate is reunited with a still very sick Jack.


	3. Good luck on your surgery, doctor

Author's Note: Firstly, a big thank-you to **Jellybelly, NYR88, Aaileen, SoFeelingTheLove, Jimelda, yas-m, stef23.51, lopip, lynnmovielover, lucky-fin, FG, jhplug, Amy, **and **anni.** I really appreciate the feedback! Please check out the poll at the bottom.

* * *

**Alive**

**Two: **"Good luck on your surgery, doctor."

"Ms. Austen, you have to eat something." The older nurse assigned to her ward clucked disapprovingly as she surveyed Kate's untouched plate of plain white rice with bits of diced chicken breast sprinkled over the top.

Kate had gone as far as to take the cover off the tray and push the rice around with her spoon just to show that she was trying to be cooperative, but she hadn't actually bothered to bring the utensil to her lips. She issued the nurse a bland look that clearly made the point that she wanted to be left alone, it had worked on Cassidy, but the problem with hospital nurses was that they appeared to be immune.

"Ms. Austen, if you don't eat something soon the doctor will have to…" Kate shoveled her spoonful of rice into her mouth and swallowed thickly. The action seemed to shut the nurse up and earn her the solitude she so desperately craved.

She shoved the tray off to the side once she was sure the door to her room had clicked shut again. Just the thought of eating made her nausea bubble back at full force.

Her right hand automatically drifted to her abdomen, she ran her palm along its surface, feeling the slight bulge drifting up out of the flat plain of skin. She repeated the motion several times in disbelief, unsure how she could have missed something so damn obvious.

She closed her eyes, letting the tears leak out even though no sound escaped her chapped lips. She didn't move a muscle, not wanting to take her hand away from that little part of Jack that she still had inside of her. Her left hand twitched, wanting to feel the little mound too, but it was confined in the sling that Dr. Carter had fit her with.

"Jack," she choked through the tears, shaking her head while still staring at her belly.

"Oh…Jack."

Kate let it all takeover her again, feeling everything from the moment he walked into her life to the moment they left him behind all well up at once. Every smile, every kiss, every fight rushed through her in a blurred haze of emotion.

Jack was going to be a father…and he didn't even know it, wouldn't ever know it.

He would have made such a great dad, even if he didn't believe it himself.

Her sobs jostled her shoulder making the all too familiar ache return at full force and everything threatened to boil over like a volcano. She drew in a deep long breath, willing herself to just concentrate on breathing through it, to calm herself down and not give in. Kate's bloodshot eyes roamed over the spot again, that place inside of her where Jack still was, all five fingers splayed across it like a lifeline.

Maybe he hadn't left her completely alone after all.

She glanced toward the tray of food and tentatively pulled it toward her. She would be eating for two now.

* * *

"Well, I'm sure you're gonna love her. She's extremely pregnant." He could hear himself talking, the relaxed and almost playful tone seeming foreign to his own ears. His was in the hospital. No, he was at work; he could feel his thighs flush with the reception desk as he rested his elbows on the smooth countertop.

Juliet was watching him from the other side, she was grinning, laughing about something with their son, David, was there too.

The hospital lights were bright. Bright enough to hurt Jack's head, he swallowed thickly.

"Shit, he's waking up."

Jack glanced around, searching for source of the voice. The hospital was quiet, no one in the ER waiting room…no patients in distress.

"Should we give him a whiff of nitrous while we're waiting?"

Jack frowned. Were they tubing someone? He pushed himself away from the desk, intent on investigating, and damn near doubled over in pain. His hand automatically went to his abdomen, feeling as though something was clawing apart from the inside out.

"Midazolam." He muttered when he felt well enough to let go of where he was clinging on, white-knuckled, to the reception desk. "Midazolam is used for short ED procedures. The total dosage in adults is 0.02-0.1 mg/kg, 0.05-0.15 mg/kg for peds."

"Wow. Is he giving us advice? Guess he's not quite as out as we thought."

Jack drew in a long breath, wanting to say more, but not quite trusting his voice. A grunt of pain escaped him before he could rein it back in.

"Hang in there, Jack. Dr. Carter is on his way down. You're doing great."

_Hang in there? Why the hell were they talking to him as though he was the one with the problem? He had to get to them, try and help. _

"Damn it, he's trying to get up again. Go ahead and gas him and somebody go and tell Carter to hurry up."

Jack didn't like the sound of what was happening. He felt dizzy, and hot, very hot; he had soaked his dress shirt straight through. Okay, maybe he was going to pass out. He whimpered, not here, not at work.

His nails scrabbling against the countertop, in a last ditch effort to try and maintain his balance, seemed to catch Juliet's attention.

Her expression was all wrong. She didn't seem at all worried, didn't rush toward him when it became evident that he was losing his battle to stay vertical. Instead she just smiled warmly as though extremely amused.

"Juliet, what?" He mumbled. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't even attempt to ascertain what she was saying. He felt himself hit the floor, his ears roaring with a high pitched buzz that only seemed to make the nausea worse. God, he felt awful.

"I said, good luck on your surgery, doctor."

Jack tried to raise his head, but everything was graying out on him and he felt too sick to move as his mind started to run away with itself.

Jack opened his eyes to a place that he had never been in before. He felt better, no pain, just a warm, tickling sensation that seemed to make his insides flutter. The sensation was not entirely unwelcome, but he did his best to block it out and enjoy the feeling of pure euphoria that appeared to be bubbling through him.

The landscape was bright and unfolded around him like a colourful photograph. He was warm, really warm, the glaring tropical sun drawing every last drop of moisture from his body. He could see the remnants on his shirt. The dusty purple tank-top he was wearing clung awkwardly to his chest. He could tell from the faded fabric that it was well worn.

Jack sighed, feeling the recoil of his lungs as he pushed out a long, slow breath. It was as though there was nothing better in the world than the mild sea breeze that was ruffling his cropped hair. The breeze was laden with the sounds and smells of the pounding surf in the far distance, salt heavy; it soothed his flaccid body from the oppressing heat.

Every care in the world seemed to ooze out of him. He was so warm, so relaxed he couldn't help the dopey smile tugging his lips upward. This was the life, he didn't have to be anyone, a doctor, a father— just Jack.

"Hell, Doc, didn't know taking it easy was in your vocabulary. Did Freckles slip you something again?"

His head craned sideways toward the sound, not bothering to move from the long, flat rock he was apparently sunning himself on.

"Something you want, Sawyer?" He said in a voice that wasn't his own. How the hell did he know that?

He must have got it right because the southerner grinned and flashed a dimpled smile. "That's a loaded question Doc, but damn, right now I could go for a couple of Vegas call girls and a one way ticket off this rock. But that ain't gonna happen is it? So how bout' Freckles any way I can get her?"

"I'm sorry?" Jack blinked, coming back to himself.

Sawyer gave a self-satisfied huff and stiffly raised his shoulder. "Just here for my morning constitutional."

He rattled a pill bottle in front of the doctor's face. "Didn't realize you could be such a lay-a-bout is all. You even been up to the beach yet?"

Jack frowned. "Why would I go to the beach?"

Why would he want to go anywhere? His body was sprawled out across the rock, his muscles practically melting into the solid stone because they were so lax. He doubted he had ever felt this sated in his entire life.

The scruffy man looked affronted. "Well I don't know, Dr. Fix-it. You've been strutin' around here for over a month with yer damn stethoscope wedged too far up yer ass so why stop now? I'm sure someone on this damn island needs saving so get to it already."

Jack leaned forward, groaning at the loss of heat. "Look, I don't know who you..."

Something changed, burst apart as though he had just realized he had been treading on glass. A cold and clear emotion flickered across Sawyer's features and he looked pained all of a sudden, older, like a man who had finally realized what he wanted from life only to have it snatched away from him.

"You gotta fix this, Jack."

Jack just stared at him dumbly. He was warm and his body felt like it was filled with jello. He was perfectly content to just lay flat and rest his eyes. He was so tired.

Sawyer shook his head sharply, his face twisting in irritation. For some strange reason the man seemed to age in front of his eyes. He blinked and Sawyer was standing in front of him wearing a strange dust coloured jumpsuit with the words 'LaFleur, Head of Security' stitched on the breast pocket. Jack rolled away from him, suddenly feeling queasy all over again. He was facing the mouth of a cave and wanted nothing more than to just crawl inside and lie down.

Sawyer seemed to be approaching on him fast. He could hear his heavy footsteps as they scuffed the grass, but the sound was coupled with something softer, more persistent.

"…seems half out…nitrous s'not doing much for the pain…"

_Of course it wasn't. Midazolam. They needed Midazolam…morons._

Something inside of him did a flip-flop and he was glad he was already lying down. Maybe if he could just close his eyes and…_ahhh god it hurt_.

His breath came in shuddering gasps making his entire chest quiver, which only seemed to draw a fresh bout of pain straight out from his middle.

"Shit, BP's shooting…"

He clutched his side. Everything was burning. He felt his stomach contract and he couldn't hold back the onslaught that followed.

"Damn it…suction…I need suction."

Jack hung over the side of his rock for a moment, resting his head on the jagged edge, too weak to do anything else.

Light appeared to resonate from the interior of the cave, the soft glow snaring his gaze, willing him toward it. He contemplated it at first, but his body wouldn't let him move as much as he wanted to get up and out of his own mess. The smell infiltrated his nostrils, daring his stomach to repeat the action. Then the whole thing seemed to burst into flames around him, everything the light touched, the grass, the trees, the sky. He stumbled onto shaky legs needing to get away from the inferno around him. He could hear the flames cracking; feel the heat on his skin, instant and unrelenting.

"…Okay Jack, hang on buddy….let's get him started on high dose midazolam and fentanyl. That'll put him under pretty quick….easy now Jack, you'll feel better in a sec…"

He moaned. The sound was distorted, playing with his mind, making it impossible for him to figure out where he was or what was going on. He could smell his flesh starting to burn as his legs fell out from under him and he started to lose his battle, making it impossible to tell if it was the smoke or the tears that was making his eyes sting.

The flames flared up around him, arcing over his head, ready to obliterate him…then nothing…nothing at all.

Dr. John Carter watched Jack's vitals even out on the flat screen LCD monitor.

"Good," he nodded to his surgical team. "He didn't look like he was having a good time of it. Someone wanna go ahead and intubate him?"

The door to the OR opened and Carter stiffened as the Chief of Surgery entered.

"Running late Dr. Carter?" Hamill's tone was accusing.

"I was with a pretty distraught patient. She just found out she was pregnant, father's dead."

Hamill nodded.

Carter blinked, as though just noticing that the older man appeared intent on staying.

"You auditing me?" He asked in a half joking tone.

The OR nurse had already began to soak Jack's stomach in bridine as the men spoke.

"No. Dr. Shephard here is a senior member of our surgical team so I would like to lend assistance when necessary."

Carter nodded. "Of course sir. I recognized his name, but I don't think I've ever met him."

He had only been at St. Sebastian's a month.

Hamill glanced at him. "Dr. Shephard's been…on leave," he said, hesitating for only a moment. "How's his temperature doing?"

"104.1"

"Up the dosage on the ibuprofen, I don't want him going into shock. I'm amazed he's hanging in there as it is."

Carter pushed another 400mg into Jack's line and looked doubtful. "I'm not sure if we can open him up without killing him," he admitted, earning an incredulous look from Hamill.

The younger doctor stood his ground. "He's almost in full blown heat stroke. Even with rehydration therapy his heart rate still isn't where we want it and he's really sitting on the critical borderline with his temp."

"Are you suggesting we leave him to die, doctor?" Hamill retorted in a raised, irritated voice.

John Carter felt his heart beat a little faster as the man's eyes bore into him and it finally dawned on him that Hamill was emotionally invested in this somehow. Of course he was, he was the Chief of Surgery, Jack was one of his surgeons and it was his job to look out for them.

"I'm _suggesting_, we get someone from cardiology up here for a consult," he told the man brightly.

Even from across the table, Carter could see the muscles in the man's jaw clench in confusion.

"There's nothing wrong with his heart, Dr. Carter." Hamill fixed him with a calculating look as though trying to decide if the doctor was competent enough to be heading the surgery.

Carter nodded, in agreement. He smiled behind his OR mask.

"Have you ever been to a 7-Eleven, Dr. Hamill?" He asked wryly.

The Chief of Surgery glared at him for just a moment, ready to kick him out right then and there, but then something in his eyes changed and he choked out a little laugh.

"Brief your team, doctor. I'll get Dr. Peirce."

"Dr. Carter, what just happened?" McKay, Carter's resident, asked somewhat uneasily as they watched Dr. Hamill's retreating form head toward the OR doors. "I mean are we going to do the surgery or not?"

The rest of the surgical team appeared to share his apprehension.

"McKay, a patient goes into cardiac arrest, how do you stabilize him so you can get him on the table and see what's going on in there?"

The resident glanced at Jack, then back to his attending. "Well," he racked his mind. "I guess you'd use an ice slurry. If the heart cannot be restarted, you need to start cooling the body so it will require less oxygen and keep brain cells from dying off, therefore buying time for the heart to be restarted. Dr. Hamill's right, there isn't anything wrong with his heart, but an IV ice slurry would cool his blood down in a matter of minutes, I guess it would act to rehydrate him as well?

Carter winked at him. "Just like a giant IV Slurpee. Jugular placement will probably be best, but cardiology may want femoral. We'll also feed it directly into his stomach to cool the vascular tissue beds and supplement the IV. I want everyone to take turns watching his temp stats once we begin, we don't want him going hypothermic on us. Everything clear as mud?"

The team seemed to settle into an easy rhythm under Dr. Carter's leadership. Even when Dr. Hamill returned with a cardiologist and several technicians he didn't once question the younger doctor's competency.

By the 45 minute mark they had Jack sufficiently stabilized enough to open him up. A combination of the drugs and the coolant left his heart rate very low and he barely bled as they assessed the damage. They worked vigilantly to cauterize the source of the blood that had pooled into his abdominal cavity. He had an infection, and a bad one at that, they could tell just by the smell of the wound that it was riddled with bacteria and pus that had to be suctioned away. That was the hardest part, the knife and nicked Jack's intestine and his own bacteria and joined forces with the opportunists which were already trying to do him in.

Carter made sure he was given an extra dosage of fentanyl before they stitched up the damage and applied a hefty amount of topical antibiotic to the area. He dismissed most of the surgical team after that, stepping aside, himself, as Dr. Hamill insisted on closing the wound.

"How's his temp?" Hamill asked, not looking up from where he was putting in the last couple of stitches.

Carter glanced at the monitor. "He's at 82.2 so moderately hypothermic. The question is how fast do we want to warm him up?"

Robert frowned. "He's got one hell of an infection. One of the worst I have seen in a while. Even if we just warm up some IV fluids and bring him up by 10 degrees we can leave a bit of a buffer zone for the fever."

"So we'll bring him straight on through to ICU?"

Hamill nodded. "Yeah. We can have the staff up the dosage on his antibiotics and start him on some re-warming fluids. I think the rough part of this is over."

Carter yawned. "It seems like it. Though I have to say, for a doctor, he's being a pretty damn good patient.

The Chief of Surgery scoffed. "He hasn't woken up yet, so don't get too excited," he warned.

"Why's that, you think he's gonna be a pain in the ass?"

Hamill finished with the last stitch and wheeled back a few paces in the chair. "You said it yourself, when is a sick doctor not a 'pain in the ass'? It's a distinguishing trait."

"Right. Puts us up there with cops and doughnuts and fireman with those spotted dogs." Carter agreed, barely suppressing a smile. "We'll have to put a warning sticker on his chart that says he's a doctor so that the nurses give him the Sick Doctor Treatment if he acts up.

Robert Hamill blinked. "The what?"

"You've obviously never been hospitalized," Carter remarked. "Don't worry, it's like some universal code among nurses, hell I wouldn't be surprised if they teach it in school, trust me, if they know he's a doctor they'll know what to do."

"Good to hear it. If it speeds up his recovery tell em' to treat away."

"Yes, I suppose you do want your spinal surgeon back?"

Hamill frowned and dodged the question completely. "You did good work here today Dr. Carter."

He pulled off his gloves and glanced down at his watch. "Jesus, your shift ended hours ago. It's past 1AM. Why don't you take off? I'll wait and page the porters to wheel Jack down to ICU."

"No, I'll help you bring him now. My wife's out of town so it's only saving me from cold pizza and HBO. I also have a patient I want to check up on before I kick off."

"The pregnant one?" Hamill asked as he untied his surgical mask and discarded that as well. Carter followed his lead.

"Yeah, she was brought in a day ago with a GSW in her shoulder." His face hardened as he spoke. "Funny thing was, the wound was at least a week old, looked like someone had stitched it up with a needle and thread. She was severely dehydrated."

"Did you get the police involved?" Hamill frowned and made a motion to pull the guard rail up on his side of Jack's gurney. Carter mirrored the motion and shook his head.

"Not yet. She just didn't seem to fit the profile of an assault victim. Said a doctor in Fiji stitched her up and admitted to not taking her antibiotics. I didn't realize she didn't know she was pregnant and she broke down on me when I mentioned it so I didn't want to push her."

He grabbed hold of the foot of the stretcher and the IV stand with his other hand, pulling them both along as Dr. Hamill steered them out of the OR.

"Well someone's going to have to look into it." Hamill told the man sternly.

"I will. Just give me a couple of days to let her…" he paused. "Kate?"

Kate had been walking the floors for almost an hour. She had eaten the rest of her meal and earned at least some points with the charge nurse who seemed almost sympathetic that she couldn't get back to sleep. Kate was restless by nature and the nurses could see that, relenting when she asked to go for a walk to 'help her relax'.

She claimed that she needed the exercise, not the drugs, the ones that they couldn't give her now that they knew she was pregnant, to put her to sleep. It was late and visiting hours had long since passed so they finally agreed provided that she took it 'slowly'.

"Kate, what are you doing out of bed?"

Her head snapped up and she let her eyes focus down the brightly lit corridor, one floor below her own ward. Could the nurses really have followed down here?"

With effort, she brushed aside the initial instant of shocked recognition. The doctor looking after her, Carter, was advancing toward her, but it was what was behind him that she couldn't seem to process.

"Do you know how late it is? You're supposed to be resting," he explained gently, frowning when she didn't appear to be hearing a word he was saying.

The colour was draining out of her face and she looked as though she was going to pass out.

"Jack." She rasped, in a wary, confused voice. She shakily evaded Carter's attempt to steer her back toward the elevator and slowly made her way to Dr. Hamill and the stretcher.

The pieces were starting to fall into place one at a time. This couldn't be real, Jack was dead, her mind was still playing tricks on her. It had to be, he couldn't be here with her and their child, and she just needed him to be with them.

Every step toward him felt like an eternity, like she was walking in a tunnel with no end, but there he was laying there, not 10 feet in front of her, his body lax and sedated from the cocktail of drugs being pumped in his system.

Jack. She began to shake her head back and forth in a tentative denial, waiting for him to vanish like a mirage in a desert. Her vision wavered from the tears starting to sting her eyes, but the image didn't resolve itself. Jack stayed on the stretcher; he didn't disappear like he had when she was curled up on her couch. He didn't look mad, or disapproving, or anything. He just slept on, oblivious to what was unfolding around him.

"Jack?" she managed a hoarse whisper. One hand clumsily found his cheek. He was cold, ice cold. Kate jerked her hand back in surprise.

He _was_ dead.

Her nails dug into her palms as everything around her began to swim with the raw emotion of it all. Her ears started to ring and she emitted a low whimper, Dr. Hamill caught her before she could fall face first into the tile below.

* * *

Ok so they a little bit of a reunion this chapter…Kate at least got to see him. I promise the next chapter will be totally Jate. Hamill will even move a bed into Jack's room so that Kate can stay with him and they can be hospital buddies.

Next time: Kate wakes up to find Jack very much alive.

**Poll: Girl jaby or boy jaby?**

a) It's a girl!

b) It's a boy!

Name suggestions would also be helpful lol.

Thanks again and please review!


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